[h3]Eastern Central Yharnam - Collab[/h3]
"Alone? No, love, I was planning to go with Gerlinde. If you'd rather come with instead I don't mind, but... something is going on with you, isn't it? You're... considering things, and something is haunting you. I see it in your eyes. Don't keep it to yourself--that's how it eats at you until nothing is left." Ophelia responded, casting the slightest of sidelong glances towards Farren as she finished before focusing on Torquil again.

Vigilant as ever, Farren caught her glance, but rather than protest or show any sign of irritation, Farren nodded. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“She's right,”[/b][/color] he said, glancing Torquil's way. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Believe me, suffering that sort of thing alone...it ruins you.”[/b][/color] There was a haunted cast to his eyes and a warning in his voice as he said the words. It lasted for a few moments then faded as his attention shifted away. He was glad that Torquil had offered, for while he didn't want to go, he'd not have Ophelia go alone and while Gerlinde was certainly a companion...she wasn't exactly much of a grounding influence.

Torquil shrugged. "There's nothing much to tell, it's just... vague feelings and flashes of stuff I don't remember, and it got worse after that Frenzy-thing. Being all alone in a shack in the woods. Being scared and angry and hateful and disgusted at myself. Little pieces. I don't think the old me liked himself very much."

[color=#1A1A3B][b]“And do you?”[/b][/color] Farren asked idly, his gaze not even turning as he asked the question.

"We all have a shadow, dear. A version of ourselves that's all the worst parts, all the things we hate about ourselves... Mine is small and stupid and powerless, a lost and sickly orphan with neither wits or love. I love her now, though, because that's all she ever really wanted. The only antidote to hate is love." She added after Farren said his little piece. Hers was a more roundabout way of making it to the point, and perhaps simpler was better when dealing with Torquil, but she couldn't help her lack of brevity--it was just who she was.

Torquil just stared at the two of them while Ophelia spoke, all the while considering Farren's question. Thinking about his feelings. About those brown eyes.
"I don't think I like the old me very much either," he declared dispassionately. "But I like the new me. I'd rather not remember the old me and just keep doing what I've been doing."

"Clearly your old self isn't so easily forgotten, love. Ignoring the problem will only hurt you." Ophelia countered, giving Torquil's shoulder a gentle squeeze and offering him a smile.

Again he shrugged. "Can't forget what I've remembered, can't remember what I've forgotten. Not much I can do except ignore it."

[color=#1A1A3B][b]“That sort of things has a way of coming back to bite you in the ass,”[/b][/color] Farren said gruffly and though he only remembered fragments of his own past, the way he said it made it clear he spoke from experience.

"I could brew you a mushroom tea to induce visions for you to examine, but... perhaps leaving it for now is the best idea. Did you want to come and see Ego, Gerlinde? I assume so--and would appreciate your discerning eye. I miss things you don't, you miss things I don't. Together we should be able to make the visit count as much as possible so we don't have to go back."

"I would [I]love[/I] to go see the golden boy himself," Gerlinde giggled. "That way I can finally skip the middle man and mock the god himself to his face."

"Hah, he's not prepared for you! That's two of us--it's up to you whether you'd rather come with or stay with Farren, Torquil."

"We'll see," Torquil sighed noncommittally. "First I guess we should keep going."

Farren grunted his agreement, clearly ready to get moving once more.

[h3]Traversing Eastern Yharnam[/h3]
And so the party continued their journey southward and eastward, toward the oft-forgotten Industrial Ward in search of the First Hunter of the White Healing Church. They traversed the remainder of Central Yharnam, with its varied homes and storefronts in many shapes and sizes, each unique in its own way and all characterized by Gothic and Victorian architecture. Nearly every shutterless window was lit from the inside with the occasional shadow passing by and the sounds of life and even occasional festivities going on inside, past the safety of metal bars and lit censers. It was a reminder of another world, where the wealthier citizens of Yharnam could rest secure in the knowledge that the Healing Church and its hundreds of Hunters would preserve the city through the Night of the Hunt; a world where this was but another full moon, twenty-eight days after the last one and twenty-eight days before the next one. Where beasts, Hunters, battle and death belonged to a different world far removed from their own.
They jogged by in the sparse glow of lampposts that were being far outshined by the light of the pale full moon that crawled ever-higher into the sky, bathing the city in its luminescence. They passed over a dozen Hunters during their long trek, mostly clad in white but several also clad in black, most of which were patrolling the streets alone or in pairs accompanied by small groups of huntsmen. Though many of them seemed taken aback by the sight of Ophelia in her garb and with her obviously unusual weapon, none of them made any move to stop the travelers. They had other things to do.
For the Hunters and huntsmen that were not currently patrolling were busy building pyres and dragging the bodies of great furred beasts toward them to dispose of their remains. They passed dozens of such pyres, many lit and casting their ominous light onto the streets, and several already burned out; each adorned with the charred remains of at least one scourge beast, and many with more. Some beasts were simply tossed onto the fire to lay in the flames, while others – particularly larger beasts – were hoisted above the fire and tied to wooden crosses, their bloody carcasses filling the air with the smell of roasted flesh and burnt hair. During the entire journey, the party did not encounter a single living beast; for all the faults of the new Healing Church, it appeared that they were brutally effective at keeping the scourge at bay even on a Night of the Hunt.

They traveled onward, first passing into the eastern outskirts of Yharnam near where they had first awakened in Rebirth's Rise, where the individual and aesthetically pleasing style of Central Yharnam gave way to rows upon rows of nigh-identical residences, most of which stood dark and empty. They passed the spot where they had all first encountered Mother Moira, and this time both Ophelia and Farren were capable of seeing for themselves what had been pointed out to them by her: the Amygdala clinging to the cliff-face above them. It was no different than the ones Ophelia had seen entire swarms of in Yahar-gul, but this would be the first time Farren saw one properly. The abominable creature seemed to turn its head to watch them as they passed, but otherwise did nothing to help, hinder or commune with them; it simply sat there, spectating.

They continued south and encountered fewer and fewer Hunters and pyres alike, and eventually reached the smog-filled streets of the Industrial Ward. But soon before they would begin to enter the mist, the relative silence that dominated this part of the city was shattered by a shrill, deafeningly loud and utterly fearsome inhuman shriek from further south. Even at this distance the sound was enough to be physically painful to all of them, prompting Torquil to reflexively cover his ears, and it was quite obviously different from anything any of them had ever heard before; a wail that was much louder than that of the cleric beast they had heard shortly after awakening. A beast letting out all of its rage... and desperation.